


Allowed

by Miri1984



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: JUST TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF OKAY, M/M, OH GOD I NEARLY KILLED MYSELF WITH FLUFF, a cat called Dorian and a dog called Jennifer, the cat only answers to BASTARD, they have pets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:53:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22612666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miri1984/pseuds/Miri1984
Summary: They're allowed to be happy.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 15
Kudos: 87





	Allowed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Flammenkobold](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flammenkobold/gifts).



It should have been easier.

The world was saved. They’d finished the job, they were safe, and happy (oh gods yes they were happy) and he had work to do, of course he did, but it wasn’t world shatteringly important any longer. He didn’t have to worry that a single decision he made could condemn or save a thousand people, didn’t have to worry every time he sent a friend (a colleague, a lover) on a mission it might be the last time they saw each other. 

It should have been easier.

But he couldn’t sleep.

Zolf murmured something, dreaming of the ocean, perhaps, although he sounded content and not terrified (they all had dreams that scraped wounds raw) and Oscar gave up staring at the ceiling, slipping out from under his warm embrace and slipping on his dressing gown. Their bedroom was on the first floor, and Oscar knew the creaks of the stairs well enough to avoid the third from the top, habit now to make sure he didn’t wake Zolf on these night time excursions.

He didn’t need night vision to navigate the cottage, they’d lived here for long enough now for him to negotiate the stuffed armchair, the firegrate. Jennifer didn’t let him walk past her bed, though, the rough thump of her tail against the stone floor audible in the pitch black. “Shhh,” he murmured to her, reaching down to fondle her head, finding the place behind her ears she loved so much even without light, hearing the thump of her tail increase.

“That’s the opposite of shhh, you fluffy idiot,” he whispered, but crouched down and gave her some more attention, rubbing his other hand over her belly (which of course, she had presented as soon as ear rubs had been confirmed). It was only fair, after all, he’d disrupted her sleep by coming down here.

Jennifer licked his hand as he continued his ministrations, and then, with a slight oof, he felt the thud of Dorian landing on his shoulders. 

A bent back was an invitation, in this household, and Dorian the cat, unlike Oscar, could see perfectly well in the darkness. The cat purred loudly in Oscar’s ear, butting his face against Oscar’s chin, demanding equal attention even as his paws kneaded into the soft tissues of his back.

“This is why I should stay in bed,” Oscar said, sighing, but reaching up to rub the fur around Dorian’s face, even as his other hand continued to give Jennifer the attention she deserved.

“Did you ever learn mage hand, from that bard tutor of yours?” Zolf asked. “Might make this nightly ritual a bit easier on those delicate fingers.”

Dorian let out a meow, directly in Oscar’s ear, and jumped down from his shoulders.

“Stay away, Bastard,” Zolf said. “I’m going back to bed and I don’t have time to de-hair myself before you…” 

“That’s not his name,” Oscar interrupted. Jennifer had sat up on hearing or smelling Zolf’s approach, and the thump of her tail was even harder on the stone, although she didn’t move away from Oscar’s petting.

Bastard…  _ Dorian  _ was far more faithless.

“He only ever _ answers _ to Bastard,” Zolf said. Oscar heard metal feet on the rugs of the living room, and then a short muttering, as Zolf cast spark on the lamp and pale light spread. Oscar blinked for a moment, looking up at Zolf, the light reflecting and suffusing the white of his beard and his hair, glinting of the green in his eyes. He was wearing a simple sleeveless night shirt and short trousers, the black and blue ink of tattoos on his arms stark against his skin.

Gods, but Oscar would never, ever get tired of looking at him.

Oscar got to his feet, ignoring Jennifer’s whine at the loss of contact. “Because that’s all you ever call him,” he said, but there was no heat in the words, and Bastard…  _ Dorian  _ was purring as he weaved in and out between the metal of Zolf’s feet.

“You’re not sleeping again,” Zolf said, softly.

“Well obviously,” Oscar said, indicating the room, himself, the two sad saps of animals they’d adopted.

Zolf sighed, then gently shoved Bastard away from his feet, before moving to Oscar and taking his hand.

“I know it’s hard,” he said. “But we’re  _ allowed  _ Oscar.”

Oscar covered Zolf’s hand with his. “What is it we’re allowed, exactly?” he asked.

Zolf just looked up at him, then shook his head, tugging Oscar downward. They’d been together long enough that Oscar knew what he meant, and he sank to a knee so they were more of a height, and Zolf reached up to run a thumb over Oscar’s cheekbone.

“We’re allowed to rest,” Zolf said.

“Mmm,” Oscar said, closing his eyes, relishing in the sensation of Zolf’s fingers on his skin.. ”Sounds dubious.”

Zolf shook his head, smiled, and pressed his lips to each of Oscar’s eyelids, softly, delicately, intimately. Oscar drew in a breath that was slightly ragged.

“I promise,” Zolf said. 

Oscar let his eyes flutter open, to see Zolf, his head slightly tilted, the softest smile on his lips. Oscar had loved so many times in his life, had been intimate with so many people, but he’d never felt anything like the strength of Zolf’s regard, anything like the solid weight of his trust. It was like a drug, heady and addictive and perfect. He leant forward, and Zolf met his lips, and  _ gods  _ Oscar could never tire of this, of the soft slide of skin against skin, the delicate touch of tongues, the feel of Zolf’s fingers in his hair, on his shoulder, the knowledge that this was theirs and no one could ever take it away.

Except that there was a fat, slimy dog tongue that decided it was the right time to press itself against Oscar’s very bare foot.

“Gods,” Oscar swore, pulling his foot back. “Jennifer NO!”

It took a long time for Zolf to stop laughing. But that was okay.


End file.
